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Dipping her head, Mary Beth sent Darcy a frantic glance over her gold-rimmed glasses. “I can’t recall the last time someone paid you in cash. Could he be a drug dealer?”
In action-adventure films, the South American drug lords were always dark and dashing. Griffin Moore definitely fit the part, but Darcy doubted he was involved in anything illegal. “I didn’t ask what he did for a living, but he struck me as an honest man. Do you actually expect some drug kingpin to turn up here in Monarch Bay, or have you just been reading too many thrillers lately?”
Mary Beth set the estimate aside to enter into the computer later, but quickly slipped the cash into the register. “I know the difference between fiction and reality,” she protested smugly, “but since you mention it, it wouldn’t hurt you to spend more of your spare time reading.”
“What spare time?” Darcy scoffed. “I haven’t had more than five minutes to call my own since Christy Joy invited me to become her partner.”
After moving to Monarch Bay, she’d bought a kayak and paddled around the bay a time or two, but that had been her single diversion. It was no wonder the sight of Griffin Moore had made her drool. Then she began to wonder if he’d ever been kayaking.
A woman approached the desk with a question about the orchids on display near the small ceramic fountains, and Darcy left the counter with her. Spare time, she fumed silently, but she smiled sweetly as she extolled the ease with which orchids could be grown.
Although Darcy was preoccupied, her customer brought a gorgeous cymbidium with a half-dozen blooms and, as Darcy went on out into the nursery, she heard Christy Joy exclaim over the plant’s beauty.
Christy Joy’s personality was as exuberant as her blond curls, and she had a talent for displaying a sincere interest in every customer, which did wonders to stimulate repeat business. She and Darcy had met their freshman year in college. Darcy never would have predicted how close they would become, but it was impossible not to love someone as genuinely sweet as Christy Joy Jennings.
Darcy’s talents lay with horticulture and, while everyone responded to the nursery’s varied selection of cacti and well-tended plants, its success was due to her professional competence rather than her somewhat reserved manner. She bent to tighten a grouping of bright red potted geraniums and felt a lingering sense of wonder that she was a co-owner in such a remarkable venture.
She looked up to find Christy Joy’s four-year-old daughter playing hopscotch across a set of scallop-shell-shaped stepping stones set in a gravel border. Her name was Catherine, but everyone called her Twink. Darcy made her way around the circular path to reach her.
“How are you doing this afternoon, Twinkle Toes?” she asked.
Twink raised her arms above her head as she twirled around on the last stone. Dressed like her mother in a bright yellow-and-blue-print pinafore and ruffled white blouse, she had the porcelain prettiness of an expensive doll. There were ribbon laces on her pale blue tennis shoes, but she’d never been able to sit still and was a tomboy at heart.
“Okay, I guess,” the little girl responded.
“Just okay? How did things go at preschool?”
Twink hopped back across the stones. “Angela threw up and got sent home.”
“Oh dear, was she embarrassed?”
Twink paused on one foot and caught her balance with outstretched arms. “No. Throwing up’s not like wetting your pants.”
“Of course, I’d forgotten.” Darcy extended her hand. “Come help me count the little stone frogs. I want to see if anyone bought one this afternoon while I was away.”
Twink took Darcy’s hand and skipped along beside her. “Let’s get some real frogs and let them swim in the fountains and hop all around.”
“Like you do, Twink?” Darcy laughed at the mayhem live frogs would surely create. “Our customers might be terrified if one came leaping out at them, and we can’t have that.”
Disappointed, Twink pursed her lips. “It would be fun though, wouldn’t it, Darcy?”
“Yes, baby, it sure would.”
With Twink’s chatty company, the afternoon passed quickly. At six o’clock, Darcy rolled the gate across the nursery entrance and locked it. Then she went inside to check the day’s receipts. It was a nightly ritual the partners had begun on opening day, and charting the slow, steady growth in business provided constant reassurance to them both.
Mary Beth made a quick tally and announced the sum proudly. “Not bad for a weekday, and with Darcy’s new landscaping commission, it’ll be a good week.”
Christy Joy wiped off the counter and straightened the selection of tiny gift books displayed beside the register. Her daughter was coloring at the little child’s table nearby, allowing her a minute to talk. “Is it something exciting, Darcy?”
Darcy provided only a brief summary of the Zen garden, and not a word about Griffin Moore. “Looks like the gift shop was busy all afternoon.”
Christy Joy smoothed a curl back into the cluster atop her head. “It sure was, but I don’t want to forget to tell you the landlord’s attorney called.”
“Jess Stevens? What’s he want?”
“It seems the elusive owner of the Ivory Corporation is in town and wants to meet with us tomorrow at nine.”
“Here or at Stevens’ office?”
